by Lakshman, V.
The armored angel smiled and said, “Her duties require her and her team’s presence elsewhere, my lord.”
Silence reigned after that as the highlord’s seneschal either chose not to, or did not want to elaborate. Still, a thought ran through his mind. Why did he refer to Arek as “my lord,” but to Niall as, “Your Highness”?
It was not an issue with being slighted, but instead that Gabreyl assigned Niall a higher station despite the fact they were journeying to see Arek’s supposed father—the highlord. Arek wondered if that was Niall’s legitimacy as a Galadine, or something else. He thought about asking, but realized this might give their host insight into Arek’s thinking, an advantage he did not want to relinquish just yet. At least not before understanding the dangers of this land and exactly who he could trust.
When it was clear the angel would offer no more explanation about Sparrow, Arek changed tactics and asked, “You said we are not safe here. May I ask who opposes us?”
Gabreyl tilted a head, acknowledging the question, his smile never breaking, “Demons, my lord. We will face them before we depart this place.”
“Where do they come from?” asked Niall. It was not hard to see the thought of combat whittling away his confidence.
For some reason, his friend’s reaction rubbed Arek wrong. He wished Niall could see the intricate weave surrounding them, a tapestry made of danger. He seemed oblivious, asking questions as if that would somehow protect them from their enemies.
Arek was sure Gabreyl was no friend of theirs now. Why Niall, who had been the first to warn him, continued to solicit the angel’s opinion was perplexing, but perhaps the prince needed the assurance of the man.
Gabreyl answered in a slow and methodical way, as if speaking to a child, “The henge is a gate to Avalyon. You understand gates? The highlord uses—”
“A strategic weakness,” Arek interrupted, insulted at the assumption that they were somehow slow of mind, despite his earlier willingness to remain silent. The reason for the elves’ heightened awareness and anxiety was clear. The henge sat in a depression with the raised stonework affording those outside the circle better protection. The inside of the henge would be a difficult place to defend if attacked, an important distinction if defending this place became important. And it was likely the activation of the henge gate would attract attention.
The armored angel looked at Arek silently, then acceded with a slight bow, “I would call it a tactical opportunity, my lord.”
Arek responded, “And how do you plan on countering, Armsmark?”
Gabreyl gestured at the circle, where the elves had gathered in two concentric rings. The outside ring faced outward, and the inside ring faced the center of the henge. They knelt in position, removing a wooden shield from their backs. The shields had something carved into them, symbols of some sort that were illegible because of the distance. “Travel to Avalyon is guaranteed by our blood.”
“How?” Niall asked, apparently reacting to something in the tone of Gabreyl’s voice.
Gabreyl looked at them both and then smiled and said, “You misunderstand.” He let out a short whistle, and from farther down the column came a young man running up in a light sprint. His black hair was tied back, his face and arms marked with tattoos similar to Gabreyl’s own, except his created a sigil that looked like the number 696 shaped in a triangle. In fact he was almost twin to the angel, similarly armed and armored, though he bore no wings.
“Sorath, tell them your purpose,” said the angel.
He bowed to the Messenger then turned to Arek and said, “I open the henge, my lord.”
“Sorath will forge us a path to Avalyon.” Gabreyl bowed to the warrior, who returned the bow and stepped back, walking smoothly alongside them.
“What does that mean?” asked Arek.
Sorath looked to Gabreyl for permission to speak, then answered, “My blood opens the henge.”
“What?” Niall exclaimed. “You’re going to cut yourself?”
Sorath tilted his head, his expression quizzical, and then asked, “What better fate can a warrior serve, but to guarantee the safety of his brothers- and sisters-in-arms, Your Highness? I’m to be sacrificed.”
“See there,” offered Gabreyl pointing to the center of the henge and a table with a man-shaped indentation in it, “Sorath shall be given over to the henge.”
“You’ll die?” Niall continued, clearly unable to understand how someone could do such a thing.
“One of us always dies. It is how we keep Avalyon safe. I was honored to be chosen,” the young warrior answered, looking more the twin to Gabreyl as his face broke into a smile.
Niall turned to Arek, shaking his head. “What part did we misunderstand then?”
Gabreyl addressed them both saying, “Sorath will be rewarded. The highlord will bring him back from the abyss, for he is family. Each sacrifice makes him stronger.” He turned to the young warrior and added, “Perhaps at his rebirth he may earn his wings, as I did.”
Sorath bowed at that. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
The convoy drew nearer, passing stationary sentinels perched on the backs of their mounts. They looked deadly, gazing outward, iridescent birds of war with one purpose only. At each passing the riders bowed, and Arek realized they were acknowledging Sorath as he passed, not him. Clearly these warriors valued sacrifice above all else, making them a dangerous foe to face in combat.
At that moment the inside ring of soldiers had finished whatever ritual they’d been performing and drove their shields into the earth. At impact, a blue-white wall of energy sprang up, connecting their brethren with each other. The energy field quickly encircled the area creating a barrier around the henge. The elves in the outer circle laid their shields face down, waiting.
Arek thought he could appreciate the elves strategy. The ring of energy could hold those enemies at bay, insuring those in the center could make their escape.
“And when the henge appears, so will the demons?” Niall asked no one in particular.
The angel nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. They are drawn to it like moths to flame.” He pointed and said, “Come, let us make haste. They hold open a corridor.”
Two elves of the inner circle had not yet driven their shields into the ground. This left a path to the center of the henge. No doubt they would close this behind them once Gabreyl and the party passed through.
A squad of riders detached themselves from their post and raced toward them. At first, Arek thought they meant to meet and escort them in, but their speed and course did not track directly to the three. It seemed strange until he looked at Gabreyl, whose eyes were focused on something in the direction the riders now raced.
“By the lady!” exclaimed Niall.
The outburst drew a look from Gabreyl that Arek would have sworn was anger. It was a flash of fire in his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it had definitely been there. Then something connected, another missing piece of the puzzle falling into place.
Beside them, their escorts drew blades, the metal singing as it cleared scabbards. Sorath moved a step forward, placing himself between Niall and Arek and whatever they faced. He looked at Gabreyl, whose earlier anger had bled away leaving only grim lines etched on his face.
Arek understood with perfect clarity that whomever Gabreyl served, it was not Lilyth. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. He had to warn Niall and somehow make sense of this charade. Whether or not escape was the best choice at this moment was still, however, unclear.
Niall took a step back, saying, “Demons?”
Half a dozen or more appeared, stepping out of thin air to silently face them from a stone’s throw away. Each was armed with long stabbing spears and shields, deadly looking in their martial simplicity.
Arek’s eyes darted left and right, assessing their tactical position. Whether or not they were “demons,” these beings looked more like Gabreyl than the elves that served him. They had wings, but lacked the horns
and the blue skin of the elves. They towered over the scene, standing at least the height of three men. Their presence further confused things with regards to Gabreyl’s allegiance and intentions. Arek kept his mind open, ready to take advantage of whatever unfolded.
He did not have long to wait before one of the beings stepped forward and said, “You overstep your bounds, Armsmark. Surrender your prisoners and we will allow your journey to continue.”
Gabreyl did not answer, but instead let out a musical whistle. The force of wingblades and their riders moved forward, leaving behind the elves who created the defensive ring of energy. These spread out like wings to either side of the armored angel, who replied, “They are not prisoners, but guests. And we decline your offer, as generous as it may be.”
The towering figure drove the butt of his spear into the earth and said, “Charity is often wasted on those with pride.” His massive head turned and he addressed them as a group. “Surrender and the Lady’s mercy will be given.”
“No,” said the highlord’s messenger, answering before either Niall or Arek could speak. His blade now sang out of its scabbard to join the rest, and the two groups faced each other, clearly at an impasse.
The towering figure of the angel opposing them held up a hand and then conferred with his companions. Arek could not help but notice even more of these gargantuan beings appearing, materializing out of thin air from every direction. The leader of these beings seemed to be in a heated discussion, which quickly ended with a sharp gesture from him pointing in the direction of the henge. His intent seemed obvious, even to Arek.
He took a step forward and said, “I offer resolution in the old ways, champion against champion.”
“And why would I agree?” Gabreyl asked.
“More of my brethren appear every moment. Your tactical advantage is gone. It is I who should be asking that question, yet I would spare us needless bloodshed.”
Gabreyl’s head tilted to one side as if he considered the giant angel’s offer. To Arek, losing them was clearly not an option. The elven commander took a look around and apparently came to a different decision. Stepping forward he said, “Our champion against yours for possession of one of our guests. I cannot return empty-handed.”
The towering being seemed to consider this, rubbing his face with a gauntleted hand. “Agreed, so long as it is the victor’s choice.”
Gabreyl narrowed his eyes then slowly nodded. “I name this man as our champion,” he said, pointing to Sorath.
He did not wait for their acknowledgement, but instead gathered Arek, Niall, and a few others, including Sorath. In a voice pitched so that only they could hear, he said, “We know they seek entry to the henge.”
“I’d thought to make our path home easier,” Sorath answered, “by allowing him a quick victory.”
“I know,” said Gabreyl with a reassuring grip on the young warrior’s arm, “but if he’s alive within the circle, he will have access to the henge. First be victorious and protect Avalyon, then do what you must to serve your highlord and family. Once you have vanquished your foe, we will fall back inside the perimeter and do what must be done.”
“Wait!” Niall exclaimed. “Why have him fight at all?” He looked around. “I mean, if there’s a chance of failure…”
The armsmark smiled and said, “Sorath will not fail, and I do not feel so confident were I to put another champion into the circle. Our only recourse here is retreat, but it must be disguised as aggression. Otherwise, it is doubtful we will have time to gather you both and make our escape through the gate his sacrifice will open.”
“What about the terms of victory?” asked Niall, looking at everyone. “What happens if their champion wins?”
“That only happens in stories,” answered Arek. He hoped to bring some pragmatism to his friend’s innocence. “Gabreyl doesn’t intend on handing either of us over, he never did.” A part of him watched the elven commander and could not help but be impressed with his thinking. The man was a tactician under the skin, despite his outward appearance of a sycophant and diplomat. There was steel in his eyes and Arek decided he would not again underestimate him or the forces he led.
“Where did you learn your battle tactics, Armsmark?” He laid the question out innocently, keeping his tone soft and without judgment, like a child suitably impressed with a warrior. Master Silbane had counseled him for years on interrogation and information gathering, instincts he could not easily forget.
Gabreyl looked at him for a moment. Then his eyes filled with mirth and he answered, “On a hundred battlefields before you were made, Lord Arek, by better men than you.” He then faced the two young men of Edyn and said, “The highlord would have my head if harm were to befall either of you.” His voice carried a note of steel behind it as he finished, “When the gate opens, do not hesitate. We will have only a moment to go through.”
Some motion caught the corner of Arek’s eye and he looked quickly over his shoulder. The elves of the inner ring had picked up their shields and begun stepping past their brothers. The wall of energy moved with them, creating a larger area within the henge.
Arek knew Gabreyl was a strategist first. His every action thus far had shown him to be cunning in speech, and in action too. It was plain that while the energy field would ‘trap’ Sorath and his opponent within the henge, it would also effectively create a barrier to all the Aeris outside. The question was, could he turn this to his own advantage if he chose to escape?
Gabreyl looked again at the group, then grasped Sorath’s forearm in a warrior’s grip and clapped him on the shoulder. Some unspoken message passed between the two, then the young warrior stepped forward and bowed, “I am Sorath of House Galadine, and I accept your challenge.”
At the name Galadine, Niall snapped a look at Arek, his eyes wide in shock, plainly asking what was going on.
Arek made a small gesture with his hand to stop any outburst. They did not have enough information to act but he hoped Niall would have the sense to remain quiet. However, the utterance of the name broke loose the last foundation of trust that had been eroding since he’d met Gabreyl. If there was a Galadine in charge of these elves, something was definitely not right.
The towering angel saluted with his spear, then said, “I am the Fury named Cainan, of the Lady’s Blades, and I accept your challenge.”
The two began walking to the copse of trees and the circle of energy, which now stood even larger, like an arena—a field in which two combatants would enter but only one would leave. If Gabreyl were right, Cainan had only agreed to this so as to gain entry to wherever the henge took them.
“You two be ready.” Gabreyl said in a whisper, suddenly beside them both. The intensity of his words sounded almost as if he were shouting orders directly into their ears. “If you value your lives, you’ll follow my request.”
Arek watched the armsmark sweep them with a gaze that conveyed the expectation that his “request” would be followed. Niall certainly seemed more than willing to do whatever Gabreyl said, but Arek had his doubts. If these elves did not stand for Lilyth, to which Galadine were they being taken? His torture was not so far behind him as to be forgotten.
Furthermore, Gabreyl did not intend on keeping his word. As he’d outlined, Sorath would kill Cainan, then sacrifice himself to open the gate. Arek could only surmise that the circle of energy erected by the elves would protect their escape. He moved a little closer to Niall and said softly, “Don’t go through that gate.”
“Are you kidding?” Niall looked around quickly, fearing they would be overheard, and replied, “He said, Galadine.”
“I know, but there’s something not right. You were right, don’t trust Gabreyl.”
“If there’s a Galadine here, I need to know,” responded Niall in a hushed tone.
Just then the blue-skinned elves started to move, heading for the circle and followed by the towering figures of the armored angels that opposed them—the rest of the Lady’s Blades, by Arek�
��s reckoning. The flow of warriors interrupted any response Arek might have had, but he tried to convey with his eyes how important it was that Niall listen. He wasn’t convinced that the prince understood or agreed.
He’d agreed to follow Lilyth to meet his father. What if they had been intercepted? Was he being taken to his father, or instead to the Galadine that led these elves? Arek began to realize that any hope of seeing his father and Lilyth may, in fact, rest with these towering warriors calling themselves the Lady’s Blades. When the gate opened, he knew he’d have to make a choice, and dreaded Niall would choose differently.
Elves held the coruscating circle of energy, shields facing outward as the champions of each side entered. They made their way to opposite sides of the circle, raising and lowering their blades in salute.
At Gabreyl’s signal, the two remaining elves punched their shields into the ground, completing the circle. In a flash of power, it rose to create a dome of light, with only the two combatants inside. Those outside now could only watch, unable to interfere with the outcome of this contest.
Before either could move, a scream sounded from the far end, opposite Arek’s position. He squinted, unable to see through both the dome’s walls, but something was happening. At first, he thought it might be a quarrel, however out of place that might seem. Certainly there was a short burst of movement discernable through the walls created by the dome.
Then, pandemonium erupted. The sound of combat could be heard, screams that sounded guttural and fanatic. Arek quickly circled to a better vantage point, his peripheral vision picking up that both the combatants inside the henge had also spun to face the commotion. As he made his way around, the sight that greeted him was hard to comprehend.
There was a quarrel, it seemed, but amongst the elves. Some had climbed atop others, pulling them down with almost an animal’s ferocity. Others cut and thrust, stabbing at their brothers as if they were at war. What was going on?
Outside the ones locked in this strange wrestling match, the rest had formed three man phalanxes, two shields in front and a spearman behind. Racing around the clearing Arek heard the whump whump of wingblades at a full run.